


more than one way to worship

by mystified (starryfuck)



Series: we fuck like god's watching [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Corruption Kink, First Time, Lowercase, M/M, Seduction, demon!tsukishima, priest!yamaguchi, tsukishima is Sexy, yamaguchi is Sweaty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryfuck/pseuds/mystified
Summary: prayer isn’t always structured. sometimes it comes out in gasps and moans.and maybe it’s the cathartic act of deliberate sacrilege that is the redemption that many seek.yamaguchi learns these two things in one night.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: we fuck like god's watching [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066532
Comments: 11
Kudos: 162





	1. supplication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> supplication /ˌsʌplɪˈkeɪʃn/ (noun): the action of asking for something earnestly or humbly. make your requests to God.

yamaguchi knelt at the pew, clasping his hands together after his final sermon. he bowed his head towards the large crucifix at the front of the parish and closed his eyes, bowing his head and murmuring a prayer. 

he found that prayer during late hours of the day was the most meaningful. while god was definitely present within his masses, it was important to him to have an individual, private, conversation with god. 

“..dear lord, i give my life to you in the hopes that you will protect me from sin and temptation-”

“i don’t think god will help you there, father.”

yamaguchi jolted a little, picking his head up and turning to look sideways to where the voice came from. 

a slender, handsome man leaned against the wall. his arms were crossed and his featured were schooled into neutrality as he looked at yamaguchi. the moonlight drifted through a stained glass window and left the mans blond hair glowing a faint red. 

yamaguchi dropped his hands and took a seat, resignation written across his features as he pushed his prayer time aside for the day. 

he turned to the man and tilted his head a little. “how do you mean?”

“while god does provide some protection, his power is...,” the man glanced up at the tall ceiling of the building, eyes wandering the art as he searched for a word. “he is weak. the angels are little in number and are unable to truly provide the aid that... your lord requires.”

the mans voice left his lips and drifted around yamaguchi like clouds running its fingers across his jawline. his words were coated in honey and he could not shake the sense that the sweetness was maybe less than sincere. 

yamaguchi’s gaze dropped down to his hands and he noticed that they were still intertwined tightly. he felt sweat gather in between the crevasses of his palms and fingers, and he untangled them to press them to his pants. 

god did not bless him with a steady voice as he said, “sir, i am not sure what you are here for. you are standing under our good lords roof, speaking to a man that follows him dutifully. are you sure you are in the right space to debate on the power of our redeemer?”

an amused, thin lipped smile warped the mans mouth at the title yamaguchi had named god with, and he stepped out of the red glow of the stained glass, hands tucked neatly into the front pockets of his pants. he took precise steps towards yamaguchi, ending at the edge of the pew, just two feet away from him. 

“father, i know your name, but i haven’t had the pleasure of introducing myself yet. i find it rude that you haven’t asked.”

yamaguchi bristled as he straightened his back, meeting the intimidating pair of eyes that observed his own. “who are you?”

“oh my... father do you greet your fellow worshipers with that tone?”

“sir, please, what is your name?” 

“tsukishima. tsukishima kei.”

something in the air changed and yamaguchi realised that he had scooted closer towards tsukishima. if he stood up, their noses would be touching. 

he looked up at the man, whose glasses glinted in the dark, a small smirk still painted across his face. arrogance oozed from the slits of his sharp eyes and yamaguchi found his own darting away for a moment. 

he forced his eyes back. 

“what are you here for, tsukishima?”

the name felt like storm rain on his face. it tasted bitter. but the way tsukishima’s face broke into a wide grin, lips curling back to reveal teeth that look like they’ve drawn blood made him more than a little breathless. 

it was not angels that sang at the appearance of his smile, but it was the crack of thunder that illuminated it. yamaguchi swallowed hard. there was something magnetic in tsukishima’s expression and yamaguchi hadn’t noticed that his own eyes stayed far too long on his lips. 

his lungs ached the same way when he sang hymns but there was an unholy reverence that settled within the pit of his stomach. 

“what am i here for? why father, i am here for you.”

rain began to fall onto the roof like a heartbeat. 

something was hidden in that sentence that made the priest forget the lord’s prayer. years of devoted study, reciting passages and laying blessings upon broken sinners begging for forgiveness did not register in his mind as he felt the words cling to his skin.

there was no more area on the pew that yamaguchi could sit on to be closer to him. static electricity charged the air when he spoke and heat rose to his cheeks, but maybe it was simply from the warmth he seemed to radiate. 

yes.

warmth.

yamaguchi had not responded for a moment, and tsukishima took it upon himself to seek it out. he slid a hand out of his pocket and delicately placed his pointer finger under yamaguchi’s chin, lifting it even further as he moved into his personal space, legs knocking against his knees. 

his mind went hazy and breath became an afterthought.

his vision swam and the heat was overbearing, threatening to leave him on his knees in front of this man. 

“how about i introduce you to a different religion?”

blinking was out of the question when tsukishima’s eyes bore into his like that. he barely processed the question posed to him and his brain scrambled to form a coherent thought.

“i- uh, no that’s alright. i’m content with mine.”

“content? only content?” 

tsukishima leaned down further, face inches above yamaguchi’s. 

the man in his hands flushed deeper and the freckles on his cheeks stood out beautifully. the universe that was captured within his eyes was a better genesis than the shit god made, and the slight scent of fear in the air made his job all the more satisfying.

“y-yes. i am... i am faithful to the lord.”

tsukishima had to hold back a laugh at how weakly he was trying to defend himself. actions spoke louder than words, and the way his body drew closer to his spoke volumes. 

“father, you may be under gods roof, but god isn’t always watching.”

“..what.. what do you mean?”

tsukishima spoke lowly, words battling the continuous cacophony of rain hitting wood. 

“you’re smart enough. i know you’ve already figured it out.”

his hand moved down to yamaguchi’s collar, pinching the first button and deftly undoing it. he let his thumb press against bare skin and-

“oh lord,” yamaguchi breathed out. the warmth the small touch sent through his body was almost dizzying, and his hands lay limp in his lap. 

he did not stop him.

he had no desire to.

the heat of his hand only seemed to increase as he undid the second button, leaning even closer into yamaguchi’s space. 

he was told to leave room for jesus during dances when he was younger, but the space between the two would barely fit the width of his malnourished chest. 

this, he knew was too close, was too far. 

tsukishima had three of his bottoms undone.

and yamaguchi still had not stopped him.

he did not know the reasoning of this man’s encounter with him, but he found that he did not care. 

his thoughts were consumed with the temptation to press his lips against tsukishima’s pale skin. 

the lull of the rain was a blanket thrown over his senses. 

his neck was ... very close.

yamaguchi’s eyes unfocused for a moment, head leaning in to submit to the wills of his own desires, before snapping back, a wisp of cold air on his chest. 

he looked down and swallowed, seeing the shirt undone and hanging off his shoulders. 

tsukishima’s forefinger was pressed to his stomach, and he slowly dragged it up to the centre of his chest.

his face still held a cocky smirk, seeing yamaguchi’s chest rise and fall faster, eyes following his finger.

“s-sir,” yamaguchi croaked out.

“yes, father?”

“you said god is not watching. will...will i.. be dammed for being in this position with you? for committing the act you are clearly set i partake in?”

the helpless tone of a holy man was delicious, and he devoured every shaky word.

“father, you are dammed if you do, and you are dammed if you don’t. your mind is already savouring the taste of sin, isn’t it?”

“... you are a demon,” yamaguchi whispered into the air, eyes wide as he took in the hand that now lay flat on his bare chest.

“that, i am. but oh tadashi, feel free to call me your saviour.”


	2. adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> adoration /adəˈreɪʃ(ə)n/ (noun): worship. tell God how wonderful He is.

it was grace.

splendour burst forth from the way the demon’s lips pressed against his neck.

the burn of transgression on his skin was redemption, a sacrament hidden away in the shadows that yamaguchi now realised was why holy men took vows of chastity.

a single touch from the man above him could feed millions.

and he was  _ starving _ .

tsukishima’s fingers slipped past the waistband of yamaguchi’s pants and his breathing hitched, feeling soft skin run along the line of his apollo’s belt. 

he dropped his head back a little more, exposing his neck further.

yamaguchi looked like perfection, a pretty flush on his cheeks, eyes lidded and staying unfocused on the ceiling. his shirt was laying on the ground now and tsukishima’s hands were wandering his torso, his neck, his hips.

his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

he hadn’t devoured a holy man in  months .

and yamaguchi, arms around tsukishima’s neck, was soft clay in his hands. he was pliant and responsive to every light touch.

he brushed a thumb over his nipple and his eyelids would flutter, mouth letting out a shuddering exhale.

“father, how long has it been since you’ve been touched like this?”

a beat passed, rain filling the silence.

“..never,” yamaguchi replied quietly. 

tsukishima felt his dick stir.

now that was even better.

he lowered his voice, pulling yamaguchi’s chin down to meet his eyes.

“let me show you what you’ve been missing out on.”

he knelt down between his legs, hands slowly sliding up his thighs to ghost along his bulge. 

yamaguchi’s breath hitched and his hands formed fists as they rested on the seat.

his deft fingers undid the top button. and then pulled down the zipper, trailing a teasing finger along the underwear that was revealed.

“...oh merciful god,” yamaguchi breathed out, hesitating for a moment before tangling a hand into tsukishima’s hair. 

he hummed and leaned forward, resting his hands on clothed thighs. slowly, always slowly, tsukishima licked a broad stripe up yamaguchi’s dick through his underwear. 

yamaguchi whimpered and his fist tightened around blond hair before quickly relaxing. at that, the demon’s eyes fluttered before he returned to his task, wetting the fabric dividing him and his meal.

quiet exhales left the father’s mouth as he widened his legs to give more room to the one who was sending sparks along every part of skin he touched. 

the rain came down harder now, the thuds on the roof were a reminder that that time passed, but all of yamaguchi’s senses were focused on one person. the one between his legs. the one whose hair felt like that still moment when you watch the sunrise in the morning. the one who smelled of spice and strawberries. two scents that shouldn’t go together, but on him it was beautiful. 

yamaguchi’s legs trembled with every teasing pass of his tongue along his bulge. tsukishima looked up and watched the red on his cheeks deepen. the little sighs and exhales that came from his mouth was a song that fuelled him to pull down the underwear and pull out yamaguchi’s dick.

tsukishima ran his fingers along his length and shivered involuntarily. 

he hadn’t been able to do this in years.

he wrapped a hand around the base of yamaguchi’s dick and started pumping, opening his mouth to lap at the tip. 

the feel of wet muscle elicited a moan from the father’s mouth, hand tightening and bringing tsukishima’s head closer.

“...more... please,” yamaguchi said through strained breath. his head was still dropped back and his other hand found its rest on tsukishimas shoulder. “please, tsukki.”

tsukishima paused for a moment, hearing the nickname, and yamaguchi picked his head up go hazily look at the man below him. “....tsukishima?” 

“tsukki sounds better on your lips,” he replied lowly, taking yamaguchi’s member into his mouth. 

the father let out a strangled moan as he slid down lower on the pew, head now fully resting on the back of the seat. 

tsukishima swirled his tongue around the head and hummed at the way he could pull out every delicious sound from blessed lips. 

prayer sounded better with the gravity of sacrilege weighing heavy on words of adoration.

he worked faster, finding himself unusually eager to rip more moans and pleas out of the man’s mouth. he closed his eyes as he focused on the weight of yamaguchi’s dick on his tongue, hollowing his cheeks. 

a long whine spilled out of the father’s mouth as he felt tsukishima bob his head faster, fist pumping at the same pace. 

“t-tsukki- god,” yamaguchi choked out, thighs trembling as he felt his release draw nearer. 

tsukishima almost pulled off reply with a snarky comment, but continued on. there was an addictive burn in his mouth that never existed when he fucked idiots in alleyways and brothels.

this was... delicate.

there was none of the usual begging and scratching and moans bordering on screams. but he didn’t want that.

maybe this was better.

he loved the way yamaguchi came apart. the hand in his hair and on his shoulder curled into tight holds, a contrast to the breathy whimpers from his mouth, scattered with broken pleas to his god. 

tsukishima imagined that it was himself, that the father was calling holy.

and maybe it was. 

when yamaguchi came into tsukishima’s mouth with a sharp tug of his hair, he cried out, ecstasy tingling along every hair of his body.

tsukishima swallowed it all down, working the father through his orgasm.

he tasted different. he tasted better. 

“god you have such a good mouth,” yamaguchi said, voice gentle against the dying sound of the rain. 

“you called me god,” tsukishima replied, pulling off and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“...oh... i did.”

tsukishima smirked up at the father, still smug, always smug. 

because, in the end, god was nothing more than your own desires.


End file.
